New Oreans Is My Spirit City

I knew New Orleans was my spirit city the moment I set foot on Frenchman Street. It's is a place where young people go to never grow up; where old people stay to stay young; and where wanderers like me go to reclaim their childish imagination. One must dig up all the cliched superlatives and downright hyperboles to describe what feels like a town of creative outlaws. I felt like a time traveler in New Orleans, maybe because of the time of life I'm in -- soul-searching and open with a heart ready to receive all the impish treats on those ancient streets; all those forgotten gypsy jazz chords; and all the kindness of New Orleanian strangers. It is a warm city, not only because of the indefatigable pink patina of the French Quarter, but because of the collective spirit of its people, many of whom traded their midwestern stoicism for the joie de vivre that's as naturally acquired as a local drivers license. Royal and St. Peter might be the most romantic corner in the world, not for lovers but for anyone who can appreciate the soft afternoon light pouring across ancient architecture onto fiddles, banjos, and brass. There will most always be a washboard player. It is a corner where the word "boho" isn't quite enough to describe the scene, but will certainly suffice in the absence of a language devoted only to the description of New Orleans. Only the best musicians set up impromptu stages on this corner, busking to hundreds of passersby in various stages of wanderlust and inebriation. Go to Royal and St. Peter and see, feel, and hear for yourself New Orleans in a nutshell.

Director, DP, editor: Jessica Peterson